As Nick pulled his car onto the driveway, he could smell the garlic and sauce permeating the air. Dad was at it again and that was a good thing.
“It smells great in here.” He closed the front door behind him and took another deep sniff. His stomach rumbled to life.
“And where the hell have you been, son?”
Nick smiled at his dad. Salvatore Harris could be blunt, even crass, but Nick knew his true, caring nature. Sal had moved in with his son after his wife of forty-five years passed away from breast cancer. Throughout the home, pictures of her decorated the walls, tables, and shelves, and her glass collection, as well as old photos of Nick’s younger brother, who had also died from cancer.
Nick looked into the dining room, where the table was set and already plated with the food for the evening.
“I made breadsticks, but don’t fill up on them.” “This looks great, Dad.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Four hours in the kitchen slaving away, only to have you home late. What gives?”
“Tonight was that event for the Kristen Foundation. I thought it was just going to be a reception. There were a lot of important people there. You were right. It was worth the effort.”
“She has quite a story, that Dr. White. I hear she’s stunning.” “Yeah, she is.”